Vitality zipped along Holt’s skin, invigorating every nerve and sinew. Magic energy. After working at the car wash all day, he felt strong enough to leap over a building. He switched off the electrical power running the mechanisms humans loved so much, and cranked the valve on the water spigot.
If they could see him now, his parents would never believe he chose physical labor as a means to earn money. At home, he never did anything without magic. On Earth, people didn’t believe in magic, and he wouldn’t risk standing out by using his.
Besides, he needed money. After working every day for a week, the owner promised to pay him in cash. They had a week by week agreement regarding Holt’s employment. Most of the other guys were teenagers on summer break, and they were all too happy to let Holt carry their weight. No one noticed how brightly his side of the vehicles they washed shined while Holt reveled in the flow of water magic through his fingers.
Holt pocketed the cash in the navy blue shirt that was his work uniform. Across the road, a store sold clothing and other supplies. He picked up a pair of shorts similar to what he’d seen his co-workers wear and a package of plain white t-shirts. After snaring a backpack from a different rack--his elven pack was too conspicuous--he didn’t have enough money for the shoes he planned to purchase.
Holt studied the way people took items to the front of the store. After he was confident of the process, he stood in line behind an elderly lady.
A woman about the same age as Rebel ran his items over a machine that flashed with red light and beeped. He raised an eyebrow. Humans used machines instead of magic. What a fascinating choice.
“If I wanted to thank a lady like you,” Holt asked the woman, “what would I give you?”
The woman’s brown eyes flicked toward him. “Most ladies like flowers.”
“Flowers?” Holt cocked his head. “But they’re everywhere.”
She shook her head. “It’s the thought behind the gift.”
“How is giving something common thoughtful?”
The woman huffed and her shoulders heaved. “Men.”
A man behind him in line chuckled. Holt stared at him, furrowing his brow. Nearly a week in this world, and he still didn’t get their humor. Or their logic most of the time.
“Get her a dozen roses if you’re really trying to impress her. Something more colorful and less expensive if you don’t want to scare her away.”
Holt nodded, exchanging his cash for two plastic bags and the dark brown backpack. After thanking the man and woman, he sauntered into the restroom and changed into the shorts and a t-shirt. Without his leggings, he felt exposed. He shrugged off the unease and folded his clothes, tucking them into the pack with the rest of his purchases.
He counted his remaining cash and decided he didn’t have enough for roses. Where would a man buy flowers?